Mine All Mine
by Indoor Living
Summary: Hermione lays waiting to be killed by Voldemort, and it is Malfoy who has the task of keeping her alive until he shows up. Not really DHr. Mild HBP spoilers. Rated for gore and British swear words.


**Mine All Mine**

**By Indoor Living**

Hermione Granger had been lying there for days. She had no hope of rescue; everyone thought she was already dead, and if she were to just wait for a few more hours, she would be. She was vaguely aware of the fact that not all of the blood she was lying in was hers, but she didn't really have the heart to care. She was in a house that was already heavily scented with the stench of murder, and she couldn't possibly see how one more would make a difference. She mentally remanded herself for that one. Of course the loss of a life mattered, how dare she have such a dark opinion towards it? Harry would never have thought that. But then, Harry was continuing on with Dumbledore's work, he had no time for negativity. Hermione had simply been trailing along behind him in his wake, trying to make herself useful but still ending up here.

This was where _he_ had his followers take the ones he wanted to kill himself. The ones who had earned his personal dislike, the ones he would take great pleasure in destroying with his own wand. There was no quick and clean Killing Curse for those who met their end here; there was enough blood up the walls to attest to that. _Avada_ _Kadavra_ was no longer enough to sate the Dark Lord's bloodlust anymore. He wanted people to pay for what they had done in their life force, in their pain and in their torture. Hermione was going to be one of these people. She was the one who had killed Wormtail, and though he was obviously no great loss to the Great Lord there could be no denying that his simpering allegiance had been more than helpful to Voldemort. There had also been the fact that upon killing Peter Pettigrew, his master had also felt the pain, as the two had shared flesh, and Voldemort was not the kind of monster who would let something like that pass.

Though Hermione wasn't quite sure where in the world she was, she was almost certain that the room she had been lying so badly wounded in for the past few days was within the Riddle House. She had pieced together enough information from what Harry had told her to know that this would have been Voldemort's father's house. She had never seen the Dark Lord, but the portraits on the walls showed pictures of a handsome man who could only be Tom Riddle's father. With a gentle smirk Hermione wondered why she was even trying to figure these things out. She was going to die and yet she was still sitting about, drinking in as much knowledge as possible before she met her sticky end. That would have made Ron smile, wherever he was.

The trio had become separated somewhere in Hogsmede, as they fled a Dementor attack. Ron had suggested they run to Honeydukes, and use the passageway in there to escape back to Hogwarts. It wasn't much of a stronghold at the school either, but the Dementors were far too large to fit through the trap door in the sweet shop's cellar. This had been followed by definite nods from Harry and Hermione; Harry was injured and did not have the strength to produce his Patronus, and Hermione's wand lay in two pieces in the Hog's Head, as neither use nor ornament. However, Ron had fallen as they fled, and they had seen his attempts to produce a Patronus as he yelled at them to go on without him, and though neither wanted to they both knew that they were no use to the youngest Weasley boy. Hermione had hoped against hope that he was alright, but she had never been that much of an optimist. Harry had forced his way through the locked door of Honeydukes, and Hermione, who could not fathom where he had found the strength, made to follow him.

"_Sectusempra!_" Hermione had fallen to the solid ground in the streets of Hogsmede, bleeding violently from her arms, her chest, her legs. She wanted to cry out, to tell Harry that she had been attacked, but a quick muttering of "_Silencio_," put an end to that notion. Something struck the crown of Hermione's head and she felt as though something cold was trickling down her, and stealing a look at her bloodied arm she realised that someone had put a Disillusionment Charm on her. They were trying to hide her from Harry, she was certain. She had feared this ever since she had turned her wand on Wormtail. The Death Eaters had come for her, and Voldemort was going to make her pay. She heard footsteps next to her ear, and the sound of someone crouching down beside her. "Come in Granger, your time is up," a voice growled. Hermione's insides froze. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Get away from me Malfoy," Hermione hissed soundlessly, wincing as she tried to move. A hollow laugh followed this, as Hermione was sure it would.

"Oh please, you foolish Mudblood, you're really in no condition to be ordering anyone about, are you?" Lifting the silencing charm with a flick of his wand, he traced a finger across the cut that slashed through her chest, sending a fire through the wound and making her retch with repulsion.

"Get your filthy hands off me," she said, grimacing. Again, another laugh.

"Oh you're just not paying attention, are you Granger?" he said, pushing his finger harder onto the cut, shaking with evil mirth. "You're mine now, all mine." Hermione closed her eyes, squeezing tears from the corners but saying no more. With very little care for her wounds, Malfoy wrapped his hand tightly around Hermione's arm, and with the strange pressing sensation, they both Apparated to the house Hermione had found herself in for the past few days. Malfoy had been in and out of the room every once in a while, to bring her food and water which she had refused at first, keeping her alive until Voldemort showed up. It was daybreak now, Hermione noticed as she glanced out of one of the filth-encrusted windows, and she could hear footsteps outside of the door. A thin, pale figure appeared in the frame, a pink glow cast on his white features from the morning light. In spite of herself Hermione let out a low sigh of relief. Every time that the door opened to show Malfoy and not Voldemort, Hermione knew that she would survive just a little bit longer.

"How are you feeling, Granger?" Hermione narrowed her eyes and spat at him, but there was so much blood in her saliva that it just made him smile.

"I see," he said, taking a step back. He was wearing Muggle clothes Hermione noticed; blue denim jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt that showed off his Dark Mark. The edges of the Mark glowed red and the skull itself shined pitch black. Hermione squirmed uneasily; _he_ must have been with Malfoy mere moments before.

"Why?" Hermione croaked. He sat down beside her, in the pool of her blood as if he didn't notice, cross-legged with his hands in his lap. Hermione pushed herself up to sitting as well, puzzled by the Malfoy before her. He looked like a lost little boy who was just doing what he was told even if he didn't like the orders. Maybe that's all there was to it, Hermione thought as she felt a fresh trickle of blood run from her forehead. Malfoy pulled a hip flask from the pocket of his jeans.

"Drink this," he said softly. Cautiously, and with a great effort, Hermione raised her stiff arm and took the flask. Malfoy leaned over and screwed the cap off of it for her. She sniffed it cautiously. "Don't worry, it won't hurt you," he said genuinely. "It's Blood Replenishing Potion." Hermione cast the flask another wary look before raising it to her lips. She did not care if it was poison or not, she was about ready to welcome the end, but she didn't want to seem so trusting. As the liquid trickled down her throat she noticed it did indeed bear the coppery taste of Blood Replenishing Potion. She cast Malfoy a sideways look but continued to drink. "Why, you ask?" he said delicately. Hermione pulled the flask from her mouth and looked at him.

"Why?" she repeated. He studied her for a moment, but Hermione couldn't tell if it was with pity or understanding or maybe even repulsion.

"Is this where you tell me it doesn't have to be this way?" he said suddenly, startling Hermione as he broke into humourless laughter. "Is this where you tell me I'm free to make my own choices, that I'm my own man?" He was almost hysterical now. He had gotten to his feet and was pacing around Hermione with a maniacal glint in his grey eyes. "Well, this might come as a bit of a shock to you, you might be smart but you were never that good at noticing the bloody obvious, but this is my choice!" He spread his arms wide, engulfing the Riddle House, Voldemort, and the path of Darkness in his gesture. "This is what I want! This is who I am!" Hermione recoiled slightly in the corner. She took a deep breath and studied the blonde boy.

"No it isn't," she whispered. Malfoy looked as though he had been struck. He rounded on Hermione, and pulled a chair out from the long dining table that ran the centre of the room. Sitting down heavily he tore his eyes away from Hermione and rubbed the Mark on his arm.

"What would you know, you filthy little Mudblood?" Hermione allowed herself a faint smile. She knew a defence mechanism when it was trying to insult her. Malfoy had called her Mudblood so many times it rolled right off her. With a small pang of embarrassment she remembered the days when Malfoy could make her cry with those words. My God how much had she grown in the days since? How much had she seen, how much had she been through? He noticed her smirk and he leaned over to slap it roughly from her face. "Don't you sneer at me," he warned. Hermione lowered her gaze.

"I know enough to know you're not a killer," she said quietly. Tears cascaded from her eyes as she said those words, remembering how she had watched Pettigrew's lifeless body fall before her, his end met at her incantation. She had murdered, she had taken life from this world. Staring at her hands, she doubted that the blood would ever come off. Malfoy could always sense weakness in others, he always knew how to push their buttons. That was why the Dark Lord favoured him so highly.

"But you, it would seem, are a murderer Granger," he said smoothly, narrowing his eyes at her. Still she would not look into his eyes, she was too afraid of seeing the truth reflected in them. "Though you are a Mudblood, maybe the Dark Lord would be able to look past that in your case. You could be a great help to our… _cause_." He smiled widely, and Hermione looked up, fire in her eyes.

"I would never…" she breathed defiantly. Malfoy waved his hand at her and looked to the ceiling.

"Oh yes, I forgot. You and your loyalty to Potter. When will you realise that he cannot possibly win? When will you see that he doesn't stand a chance against the Dark Lord? Oh, never I suppose. You and your fantasies that goodness always prevails. This isn't a fairy tale Granger, this is real life, and you will lose." He leant back heavily in the chair and ran his hands through his hair, which had become rather untamed of late. "You will die." Hermione looked to him once more, and tears filled her eyes.

"So will you." Malfoy leapt from his chair and kneeled by Hermione's side. "You're not good enough for him Malfoy, he needs killers, he needs murderers, he needs people with evil in their souls. People like your _father_. God, you must be such a disappointment to him." He took Hermione's face in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Shut the hell up Granger," he said through gritted teeth, and as if to force her he pushed his lips onto hers. It was not a gesture of love or lust or longing, it was a demonstration of power, and who had it. Hermione pushed him off her with the last of her strength and then smiled, despite the fact that Malfoy was hurting her.

"Oh yes, your daddy would hate to see you now, wouldn't he? Brought to your knees by an unarmed Mudblood."

"I said shut up," he snarled, before relaxing his features. "You're lucky," he said quietly, getting to his feet. "The Dark Lord has decided you are not worthy to be killed by him personally. He has sent my dear aunt Bellatrix Lestrange to do the job. Your suffering is over." Hermione's eyes opened wide with fear.

"No," she whispered to herself. Malfoy took her hand and pulled her roughly to her feet.

"Oh yes, my dear Mudblood," he said, setting all of her wounds on fire. "Perhaps you would like," he flicked his wand to an ancient gramophone that sat in the corner, "one last dance?" A hideous waltz filled the room and Malfoy guided Hermione around in a sick display she was too weak to resist.

"Get off me," she muttered fruitlessly as he twirled her to the window and bathed her face in light.

"No no," he said, pulling her face level with his, their noses almost touching. "Tell me, did Weasley escape all those Dementors, or did he perish? Did Potter manage to make it back to Hogwarts? I hope he did, the Dark Lord has taken quite a shine to that place. Did you know he now resides in Dumbledore's old office?" Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. The thought of Voldemort, sitting there in Dumbledore's old chair, probably laughing at the fate of the great wizard turned her stomach. The music slowed and Malfoy gently swayed Hermione to and fro, looking into her chocolate eyes which had burned red with her tears. What if Harry had made it back, and found himself face to face with Voldemort? He would have been killed in an instant. Hermione looked into Malfoy's eyes. No, Harry was still alive. Malfoy wouldn't have been able to hide his glee this well.

"Don't do this Malfoy, you're better than this," she said, clutching at straws. Malfoy stopped, and the two stood, inches from each other, Malfoy's hands wrapped around Hermione's waist and her hands on his shoulders, merely for support. It seemed that Hermione's words had struck Malfoy much harder than she had meant them to.

"Better?" he uttered, in an almost stupid fashion.

"Yes," she said, trying to let go of his shoulders but finding she needed them more than ever. She fell, and Malfoy caught her deftly in his arms, looking concerned. "See?" she said, braving a smile. "Voldemort would have let me fall. Your _father_ would have let me fall." Malfoy looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "We're never going to be friends," she said honestly, "but we can be allies in this horrible war. You can redeem yourself Draco, you can."

"I'm not my father," he said, and it looked to Hermione like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. This was something he had been dying to say for so long, she could tell, and now that he had it was easier. "But I won't betray him. Especially not to a Mudblood like you." Hermione's heart plummeted. She had been so close to making him see. Even so, he gently set her down on the seat he had been using before he stormed from the room, returning moments later with Bellatrix in tow.

Bellatrix Lestrange took no time in drawing out her wand and holding it over Hermione's heart. Hermione closed her eyes, bracing herself for the worst. "So Mudblood," the woman sneered. "Any last words?" Hermione didn't move, didn't even flinch. Her thoughts strayed to her parents, to Harry, to _Ron_. She gulped and felt a heavy pain pierce her heart. Was she never going to see them again? Was this how it would end for her? In an unfamiliar place, with the woman who killed Sirius and Draco bloody Malfoy?

"No?" Bellatrix said softly. "Well then…" She raised her wand high above her head and cleared her throat.

"_Avada Kadavra_!"

An eternity passed in the Riddle House before Hermione even dared to open her eyes. Before her lay the body of Bellatrix Lestrange, and beside her stood Draco Malfoy, his wand hanging limply in his hand, a stunned look on his face. Hermione wanted to smile and say well done, but all she could do was stare.

"Oh my God…" Draco uttered gently. "What have I done?" Hermione finally tore her eyes from the body and looked at Draco.

"Something your father would never have had the guts to do," she said. She took Draco's hand tightly, and with a nod he Apparated them both back to Hogsmede.

"We're not friends," he said stubbornly to Hermione. She nodded.

"No," she agreed. "We're just allies, and we will win."


End file.
